


i'll try to save the ghost lights

by craftingdead



Series: charlie will make cd a common tag if it kills them [32]
Category: The Crafting Dead
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, but i have cd to keep me company, computer still broke [whips sadly]
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 07:49:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19786462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/craftingdead/pseuds/craftingdead
Summary: (None of it washed the blood off of his hands.)AK woke to the crack of dawn pouring out and a deep chill in his spine.





	i'll try to save the ghost lights

**Author's Note:**

> ghost lights - woodkid
> 
> NOW it's starting to feel like last year

AK sprinted through the forest after them, panic starting to fill his senses. Red’s men had just left, and he was sure to miss them if he went any slower. But if he went any faster, there was a chance of getting caught. So he had to grit his teeth, stand back and wait for them to pass forward a half a mile and then run to catch up to them.

He was almost caught a few times; watching as strange men sniffed around the bushes and growled, hungry dogs in his eyes; they’d pay, one day, but now he sat silent and brooding. No need to draw unneeded attention to himself.

The note was useful. Nick was smart, leaving a note—if he hadn’t, AK might have never found his way to them. But… Red also knew where they were. And that was never a good thing.

He left Jess back at the camp, vouching to go out scouting on his own. It was no use, sending out two people—and, besides, Jess wasn’t the most stealthy person in the world. Or in their little group. Or at all. She was better in the fray; he was better scouting in the back.

AK’s teeth ground against each other as he watched Red meet his men at the gates of this prison he’d taken control of. A man was standing with him, head bowed in shame. He looked clean and well taken care of and he must have been the previous owner, ruler of that celled castle. Red sent him in with a few of his men gripping his arms tight and practically dragging him down the path as he ushered the rest in with a lazy smoothness and a grin then shut the door behind him.

That was no good, no good at all. For all he fucking knew,  _ his friends _ were in there, trapped by and with Red and his men. He needed to get them out, but he didn’t even know where they were—if they were  _ alive. _

So instead of going back and getting Jess for help, he decided to instead skirt around the prison, eyes narrowing at every blocked door and shoulders squaring at every loose chain in the fence, every hole a little too big, a nasty chip in the prison walls.

He would need to get Nick first. That would be necessary. And, knowing Red (to the best of his ability) that would mean he would be in one of the most protected, isolated part of the prison. 

AK found a big enough hole in the fence and slipped through, flattening himself against it as the harsh orange glow of twilight, blues and purples stretching across the sky above it, flattening every bit of light down with teeth bared.

The darkness would be helpful. The light would be helpful. His shadow stretching across the snow? Not a good sign.

He needed to get in—he needed to get his fucking friends, Red wouldn’t hurt another one of them, but he also had to wait. Guards were all around. He had to bury himself in a pile of snow just to get to a secluded area, and he was still shivering as he ducked low against the prison wall. 

AK was in for a long and cold night. So he huddled down and waited.

* * *

Red knew. AK could tell just from looking at him—he knew. His teeth glinted dangerously as he grinned, arms spread out as if to display what he had done. ( _ Look! Look at you all, deciding that it would be a good idea to come to Heyworth. Now you’ve fallen right into my trap _ —no, no that wasn’t right, that was a villain monologue, but still. It applied, in a way.)

He could practically feel a whisper of, “We’re not so different, you and I,” in his ear and the blood of Omar on his hands. That fucking secret, that he had kept ever since Seaport, ever since Greenfield, ever since the bombs dropped.

It made skin crawl and itch. Red, he… he had something against him, something he could hold above AK if he needed to. It burnt and left a smell akin to rotting flesh in his nose. Smoke filled the sky.

Nick would forgive him. Ghetto wouldn’t. Shark would be on the fence. He knew he could tell, he knew them well enough to know that. He was never like Nick, who, after just a few days of knowing him, could read AK like a book—most unfortunately, to say the least—but he still knew them just enough. Ghetto would hate him. Shark would be wary. Nick would be empathetic.

None of it washed the blood off of his hands.

AK woke to the crack of dawn pouring out and a deep chill in his spine. But very few guards were out (he could only see two or three, compared to the ten and over of last night) so it was time to move.

The most were lingering around one certain part, and it had a few windows, so that was where AK was heading. But first, he needed a distraction. Actually, he didn’t, he just needed to get past the main guards, and thank god for creepy noises in the woods, because they were too busy aiming their scopes to the forest instead of paying attention to the walls. He managed to get a good few feet every time he moved, and they were none the wiser. 

“You think Red’s gonna get anything good cooked up, for all this trouble we went through?” a guard said idly, rocking back on his heels.

Another guard snorted, lowering his gun. “God, I hope so,” he responded, “I’ve been out here since last evening. It’s cold, dammit, and I wanna see what kind of people they got in there. Heard someone say that Red got most of that man—what was his name? Husky?—most of Husky’s people rounded up. They have no idea. Poor souls.”

“Poor souls?” The third guard laughed. “We’re the poor souls! I’m starving and cold. They should be glad if any of them survive in the first place.”

_ I’m not like them. _ AK slid past the third guard. _ I’m not like them. _ He hoisted himself up to the window.  _ I’m not like them. _ He kicked a few bars free (only when the guards shot into the woods for “kicks”) and dropped inside of a room.  _ I’m not like them. _

“I’m tired of this,” a guard complained. “Let’s just head in, and lie and say Jerry said we could come in. Man, I hate that dude.”

The other guards cheered along. AK peered out of the window as they packed up their stuff, and chatted as they headed to a door away from him. He waited until they were out of few, and dropped back onto the snow—the room had nothing in it.

But there were still a few other windows to try.

_ I’m not like them. _ The first was nothing.  _ I’m not like them. _ The second had a few guards sleeping in it, and AK nearly fell back and broke his ass when he popped his head in to look.  _ I’m not like them. _ The third housed a room pitch black.  _ I’m not like them. _ The fourth window was extra hard to get to, higher up than the rest, and AK wasn’t the best at climbing near smooth fucking surfaces. I’m not like them—

The fourth was a small, tight room. Bars were on the window, unfortunately, but they would be easier to break now that the guards were gone. And huddled in a cell, shivering, rubbing at his wrists, was Nick.

His gaze landed on AK, and Nick’s eyes brightened, a smile spreading across his face. AK slammed his heel into the bars, and felt a satisfying crack against it as they broke, shattering the window in the process.

(“You came!”)

Nick wrapped his arms around AK's neck gratefully, thankfully, and AK was almost shocked at the contact.

"Thank you," Nick mumbled against his shoulder.

_ I’ll never be like them. _


End file.
